


Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?

by thesoftestangel



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, M/M, Sleepy Kisses, Sonnet 18, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Summer, quoting shakesphere, references to floriography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoftestangel/pseuds/thesoftestangel
Summary: Aziraphale loves summer mornings, especially when his beloved demon is involved...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54
Collections: Happy Birthday moveslikebucky!





	Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Bucky!
> 
> I joined the Warlock Party House and the Goomens Party House servers on Discord quite late into my introduction to the GO fandom, and Bucky was one of those wonderful people that made me feel welcome, and completely at home with actively participating with the fandom and the people in it - and for that I am most grateful. 
> 
> Seriously, it's people like Bucky that make this fandom so great!
> 
> So, Bucky, here's a little something for you!

It had been a nice day. 

All the days of this summer so far had been nice. 

This dawn in particular was especially wonderful. A few white clouds tinged with peach were powdered across the sky, a gentle, soft blanket of pinks and blues draped across the heavens. The sun peaked out of one of the clouds, the rays of sunlight shyly caressing the brand-new day through the curtains of the kitchen window. Birds sang songs of promise and hope in the trees as the sun grew in confidence, rising higher in the sky as it became more and more blue. 

Aziraphale especially enjoyed this part of the summer, early mornings where he could rise with the sun, stand by the kitchen window, hold his steaming mug of tea in both hands, watching the world wake up. Here in the South Downs, it seemed that the world took its time to rise. It was nothing like Soho that rumbled all night before roaring into the morning rush-hour. Aziraphale laid down his copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets onto the kitchen counter and sighed into the steam of his tea, the scent of bergamot anchoring him into his thoughts. 

From this window, he could see the garden that his demon had spent many afternoons cultivating. An apple tree, luscious and green, ruby red apples glowing in the morning sunlight, stood in the middle of the garden, a secret joke in plain sight. Gerba daisies stood to attention to greet the morning, their brightly coloured petals looking like confetti from party poppers. Dappled pink amaryllis flowers swayed in the summer breeze, dancing to the music of the morning. The greenhouse in one of the more sun-washed corners of the garden was filled with plants that were still as terrified as they had been in Mayfair, just an awful lot warmer. After all, they knew better than to wilt, or have their leaves turn brown in the sun. 

Aziraphale was admiring the purple rose bushes that had bloomed earlier that month, when he felt long, firm arms slide around his waist from behind, a gentle weight pressing into his shoulder. Aziraphale glanced around, hair tickling his cheek as he took in the sight of the demon that he loved. Crowley’s hair was ruffled and bedraggled, as he had lately been growing it out at Aziraphale’s tender insistence. His eyes were still closed, his breath snuffly with the drowsiness of rest. Sleepily, Crowley kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. 

“Mornin’ angel,” Crowley said, voice thick from slumber, “Thought I’d find you here. Bed is cold without you.”

Aziraphale hummed, taking a sip of his tea. The sunshine was warm against his face. He was content. Gently, Aziraphale put down his mug on the kitchen counter. He then turned to face Crowley, making sure that the embrace was left unbroken. 

In the sunlight, Crowley’s scarlet hair looked like cascading flames down his neck. Carefully, Aziraphale ran his fingers through the fiery locks, admiring the colours that shimmered as they hit the light. Crowley groaned into the touch, arching into Aziraphale ever so slightly. Aziraphale chuckled softly, before leaning in for a kiss. 

Crowley even tasted like sleep, that weird bitter tinge of the remnants of the night before, Aziraphale thought as he deepened the kiss. His lips were warm, lazy as they slowly kissed back. He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck, pulling him closer to him. Crowley felt so warm in his arms as he melted into the kiss. 

After a moment, Crowley reluctantly broke off the kiss. His eyes were filled with lust and not quite blinked away dreams. 

“Come back to bed,” Crowley said, reaching out and gently stroking Aziraphale’s cheek, “It’s so cold without you…”

Aziraphale smirked. “Are you trying to tempt me, wily serpent, to the sins of sloth and lust?”

Crowley grinned. “I’m a demon, tempting is what I do,” he replied, pressing his hardening cock against his angel’s leg. 

Aziraphale hummed again, nuzzling into Crowley’s neck, his arms carefully unfolding. His hands started to roam around Crowley’s lithe body. Crowley shuddered at the tender touch, as Aziraphale’s hands caressed his bare chest.

“You beautiful, gorgeous creature,” Aziraphale murmured, feeling the heat of Crowley’s skin on his face as he kissed the nape of Crowley’s neck. He heard Crowley’s breath hitch as his hands brushed over his buttocks. 

“Angel…” Crowley said with a gasp. 

With a deft movement, Aziraphale scooped Crowley up and placed him with a gentle thud on the kitchen counter. He giggled as Crowley cried out in surprise. His soft appearance was deceptive in more ways than one, and Aziraphale liked to remind Crowley of this often, especially when he least suspected it. Slowly, he closed the new gap between the two of them. 

Crowley looked majestic in the morning sunlight. His skin glowed, his hair almost looked like a halo, a different kind of divinity to the one that Aziraphale had always known. It was love, pure, unadulterated love. This was what it was to be holy, to be holy meant to love and be loved in return so honestly, so ardently. This is what Aziraphale deemed to be divine, what he deemed worthy of worship. 

“Look at you,” Aziraphale said, “I am so lucky, so blessed, to behold such beauty,” he continued softly, as he let his hands run over Crowley’s chest, down towards the band of Crowley’s black pyjama bottoms. His fingers settled on the waistband of the pyjama bottoms. He looked up at Crowley, an unspoken question, his gaze full of want. 

Crowley nodded, no longer feeling sleepy. He steadied himself on the counter with his hands. One of his hands brushed against what seemed to be a book. Crowley picked it up, looking at the title on the front cover. “Really, angel, Shakespeare’s Sonnets?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley. “Of course, my dearest,” he said, “I hadn’t read them in quite some time, summer is as good a time as any to re-read them. Especially the ones of a more, well, romantic nature…”

Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley’s pyjama bottoms off of his hips, revealing Crowley’s hard cock. He reached over to the mug of cooling tea that he had previously put down, and took a sip, partially to moisten his lips, but the teasing of his beloved was a bonus. He smirked as Crowley stared at him incredulously, before setting the mug back down. 

“So, where to begin, my love?” Aziraphale asked, placing his hands on Crowley’s bare thighs, stroking them ever so delicately. “I suppose we can start with Sonnet Eighteen…” he said. 

He knelt in front of Crowley, pulling him only slightly forward in order to get a better vantage point. 

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…” Aziraphale said, before licking along Crowley’s thigh. He could feel Crowley shuddering under his tongue and smiled as he kissed Crowley’s groin. 

“Ngk,” Crowley gasped, as Aziraphale teased his balls with his lips, his hot breath tickling them in an oh, so delicious way. “Angel,” he gasped, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take…”  
“Oh, ye of little patience,” Aziraphale said, pulling away from Crowley briefly, “You must have faith in me, have I ever left you wanting these past few months?”

That was when Aziraphale took Crowley’s cock into his mouth. It didn’t take him long to get into a rhythm that had Crowley crying out in pleasure. As he sucked, Aziraphale’s hand’s ran up Crowley’s legs, stopping at his hips, where he firmly held them into place. Crowley was desperately trying to buck into Aziraphale’s mouth, but Aziraphale wanted to savour this moment, draw it out for as long as he could. He could feel Crowley’s hands in his hair, tugging at his curls desperately as he teetered over the edge. 

Aziraphale’s mouth felt slightly cooler than usual around Crowley’s cock. This new sensation was one that was unexpectedly welcome. Crowley could feel the beginnings of his orgasm building up as Aziraphale continued to fuck his cock with his mouth. 

Aziraphale could taste more precum leaking from Crowley’s cock. He let it slip from his lips with an audible pop. He looked up at Crowley, admiring how he looked when deep in the throes of his pleasure. The way that Crowley just let himself go was something that Aziraphale adored more than anything. It was better than anything he had ever tasted, ever read, in more than six thousand years.  
How could he deny the one he loved more than anything? 

With a tender smile, Aziraphale took Crowley’s cock back into his mouth. It still felt warm from where he had been sucking it before. It tasted salty, hot. It tasted of need, of desire, of love.  
It didn’t take long before Crowley came with a loud cry. Hot spurts of his release came shooting down, and Aziraphale made sure to swallow every last drop. 

He took a deep breath, before standing up so he was at eye level with his lover. Crowley’s eyes were heavy again, although this time not from slumber. Crowley threw his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle. Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley’s pyjama bottoms back up so that his darling would not feel too cold. He could feel Crowley still shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm, so he pulled his demon closer and offered another sweet, tender kiss. 

They stayed like that for just a moment, enjoying the feeling of lips against lips for just a little while. 

It had been a nice morning. 

All the mornings of this summer so far had been nice. 

All the mornings of the rest of this summer would be sweet, and languid. Nothing would be expected of them. They were in the summer of their content. And would be for the rest of forever.

**Author's Note:**

> So, the main thing I wanted to address in the bottom is the plants/flowers I on purposely used to mean things in this here fanfiction! 
> 
> Gerbera Daisy- Celebration  
> Amaryllis - Congratulations
> 
> Because I'm a floriography nerd like that!


End file.
